Time

  I suppose that one is supposed to find a job related to your major in school, but I couldn't do that after I graduated from seminary.  I was getting some job offers from a variety of colleges and other stuff related to my major of Religious Drama and Communications, but I was in love and didn't want to leave Fort Worth.  Call me crazy, because I could have gotten a job in my field.  I was going through an emotional and professional upheaval.  Do I stay?  Do I go?  It got to the point that I realized that I needed to go.  

 I wrote the following song: (By the way, if anyone wants to steal the lyrics, please be advised that this song has been recorded by The Cobbwebs and is copyrighted through BMI.)

"One More Time"

Are we touching just a little,  

Can I see you in my mind,

Are you saying that you're sorry,

Or just following behind?

Is there just an open season

On the love we once both shared,

Or has time quickly passed us

And left us where we cared?

Can I see you in my mind,

Just a little longer than before,

Can we touch one more time,

Can our hearts beat like one again?

Will you see me--take my hand,

Can you love me with what you know,

Is it true that you are leaving,

Please tell me it's not so.

Won't you give us another chance,

It will be better I promise that,

We would dream and soar to eternity,

Won't you love me just a little bit,

One more time.

Thanks, Kare, for loving me one more time.  She still lives in Fort Worth.  A lot of time has passed since then.  I still smile, when I think of her.  One more time.

Pope

 When we were in Nazareth, Israel in 1973, we gave a basket of fruit to some children who were begging on the side of the road.  They fought over the fruit.  One boy was proud that he had gotten the peel of a grapefruit.  It was a shocking and moving experience for me.  A couple of days later, we were in Jerusalem.  I wrote "The Children's Song".  Coming back from Europe, I worked out the music for the song, although it has never been officially recorded.   Years later, I saw that Pope John Paul II paid special attention to little children, so I sent a copy of this song to him.  He blessed it and sent it back to me.  The words are timeless:

 

Save the world for the children,

They've got to live here, too.

See them starve in the ghetto of life, 

And no place to go.

Save the world for the children, 

Stop the war and the bombs.

Hey everybody, look around you,

And see their faces staring at you.

You see the happiness on their faces,

When food is dropped their way.

You see their families helped,

When money is theirs to stay.

Save the world for the children,

Black, Yellow, Brown, and White.

Please look around you and see their faces,

Because their world won't be here to see,

You'll die, and where would they be?

Rattlesnake

  Ridgecrest Baptist Assembly was a special place in the mountains of North Carolina.  I spent many summers there growing up, because my father conducted many seminars involving Sunday School work.  Many of our family vacations revolved around going to Ridgecrest.  It was kind of near Asheville, and it rained almost every afternoon.  Black Mountain was the nearest town.  We heard about an antique auction and went to see what was being offered.  One strange item they had was a wristwatch that ran on your pulse.  When you died, everyone would know what time it stopped.  I wanted one, but they cost $10 which was too much money.

 There were a lot of hiking opportunities in the mountains around Ridgecrest, and one such mountain was called Rattlesnake.  It was a little treacherous going up the mountain, but the view at the top was spectacular.  The hike is a little over a mile, and it is over 3000 ft. tall.  

 On one occasion, I had gone to Ridgecrest with some friends from my church.  By now, I was in high school.  I told my friend Sonny about Rattlesnake, and he agreed to hike it with me.  There were other churches that had brought their youth to Ridgecrest, and many were making the trek up the mountain.  When Sonny and I got up to the summit, there was a boy resting at the top.  He was probably in junior high.  We decided to play a practical joke on this unknown boy.  He and I started talking about shooting up heroin.  We showed the boy what we said were our needle tracks.  They were really moles.  The boy's eyes got big, and he literally ran down the mountain to get away from us.  To run down the mountain like that was pretty dangerous, but I guess we scared him out of his wits.  We had a good laugh over that.  I hope the boy didn't get hurt.  And for the record, neither Sonny nor I have ever really done heroin.  We were just dealing with a natural high up in the mountains that day. 

Protective

  There are some people whose conversations with me are protected.  I don't publicize these contacts, because they prefer their anonymity.  These are real people.  Some would say they are "famous" people, but I have always felt that fame is put upon you.  If you are fortunate enough to be noticed by others, then fame comes.  However, the people who want the fame, regret it later. They can't lead a "normal" life without being stopped by their fans wanting an autograph or a picture with them.  No trips to the grocery store for them.  Some people develop paranoia because of the fame.  Some use disguises to get around town.  And some just deal with it.  In some circles, I have had to deal with it, too.  People have recognized me from my TV appearances, stage work, or films.  I just smile and say thank you.  I know some "famous" people who just want to be left alone.  They do their work, but they have lives outside work.  Or at least, they try to do.

 One such person is a rather famous actor and businesswoman.  We met up online.  At first, I was skeptical.  Was it really her?  After I posed some questions that only she could answer, I realized that she was who she said she was.  We talked about her family, and how she was trying to keep her family together.  She was having a hard time dealing with fame.  I shared with her that she was not famous.  It was only a label put on her.  Putting things in perspective helped her.  

 Another person is a very famous person worldwide.  He has been in the news his entire life.  The pressure he has been in is unimaginable to the average person.  He just wanted to talk to a common person, and he found me.  He suggested we text.  Once again, I was skeptical of his identity.  I had his phone number, and I called it.  His number was legitimate.  It was him.  We talked about his family issues.  He actually offered a job to me, but I had to tell him that I was too old to help him.  He was very kind.

 Another person has been a very famous artist and singer.  I have written about her before, but just to say that I had her private phone number and address.  I was sworn to secrecy not to give it out to anyone.  Despite our differences later in life, she accepted my apology a few years ago, and we have been on speaking terms again.

 Still another person has been a pretty famous actress and artist.  I was her confidant with her personal life.  I wrote about her earlier, too.  In her case, I told her early on that I couldn't judge her for what she did professionally, and that she could trust me to just be her friend.  

 I like to think that people can trust me to not divulge things that could hurt them professionally.  They can, because I am very protective of them.  They are just people like you or me.  They might have more money than most people, but money doesn't always buy happiness.  The key to all of this is for you to be a good listener.  Try to find common ground with them and don't be in awe of them.  Just listen. 

Regrets

 Have you ever thought what if you had turned left instead of turning right?  What would have become of your life?  I live in a world of "what ifs".  I know you can't change the past unless you have a time machine, and you should not dwell on past mistakes, but my world is consumed with the past.  How would my life had changed, if I had made a couple of different decisions?

 Regret #1:  my shyness got the better of me.  I couldn't tell a girl how I felt about her in high school.  I loved this girl beyond words.  I wrote poems and songs about her.  I melted inside every time I saw her.  She may have known how I felt about her, because I confided to a couple of my friends, but I never told her that I loved her.  It was like "The Beauty and The Beast".  She was just too beautiful for me, and I had very low self-esteem.  There is a theory that beautiful women marry not so beautiful men, because being next to them makes them more beautiful.  However, not so beautiful men can marry beautiful women to show "look what I got".  I know that beauty on the outside is only superficial, but it is what is in the heart that counts.  My heart was consumed with her.  I just couldn't tell her.

 Regret #2:  my love for James Bond movies got the better of me.  When I was going to seminary in Fort Worth, I heard about a movie poster store in Dallas.  I went over there one day and found that they had a whole bunch of original James Bond movie posters.  I had to have them.  They weren't very expensive.  I got a huge "From Russia with Love" poster that fit on my closet door in my dorm room.  I also got "Goldfinger", "Thunderball", and "You Only Live Twice".  When "The Spy Who Loved Me" was released, I bought that one from the store.  I put it up on my closet door to replace "From Russia with Love".  Everybody thought my posters were cool, until one day I had the flu and needed to eat something.  I called down to the front desk of the dorm and asked someone to bring me something to eat.  A guy came into my room, who had never been there before, he declared that my poster was "pornographic".  I almost got kicked out of seminary, but I had to jump through a lot of hoops in order to graduate.   Consequently, when a job opened up in my field of teaching drama in a college, I didn't get it, because the seminary wouldn't give me a recommendation.  All because of a movie poster.

 Regret #3:  my ego got the better of me.  When I was out in Fort Worth, I was working at Sanger-Harris Department Store.  I met a girl there who looked like Farrah Fawcett.  She was dealing with a lot of personal problems, and I helped her through them.  We became very close.  She was also my drinking buddy.  We both drank to escape from our problems.  She was an artist and an atheist.  When I was having the persecution at seminary, she would keep me focused.  She provided a balance that I needed to get through those issues.  After I graduated, I was getting a lot of job offers.  I was one of the premiere religious drama people in America.  Some schools didn't care about the movie posters.  They wanted me.  I loved Kare.  I stayed an extra year after graduation to be with her.  The job offers still came.  I was being told by those people who wanted me that I was the best.  I declined their offers, because I was in love with Kare.  The doors started to close on teaching jobs.  Then, I got an offer to teach in a school in South Carolina.  I had to take the chance.  I moved back home.  Kare and I agreed to get together in Atlanta some time, since her uncle worked there.  That never happened, and I didn't get the job in SC.  I wish I had stayed in Ft. Worth with her.  

 There have been other "what ifs" in my life.  Most of them were not as consequential as the ones listed here.  I just have to dwell on the fact that the path I took to where I am now is what was meant to be.  My life would have been vastly different, if I had not done one or two things.  But, because of the path I have been on, I wouldn't have met Gary Oldman, Dennis Hopper, Jack Palance, and a lot of other famous people.  I wouldn't have had all of my cool experiences after 1979.  I wouldn't have met a lot of great friends.  I wouldn't have had connections with Beatle people.  I wouldn't have written Bible-character monologues, puppet shows for inner-city kids and plays for churches.  The list goes on.  Life goes on.

Greenwood

  My father was born in Greenwood, SC as were his 3 older brothers.  In fact, my ancestors all the way back into the 1700's lived in Greenwood County and its environs.  There are East and West Durst streets in Greenwood.  I like to say that "W. Durst Street" was named for me, although my cousin William would differ.  My parents are buried in Greenwood, and I hope to be next to them one day.  We have a legacy in Greenwood.  At one time, much of the downtown area was owned by my family or had a hand in it.  My great-grandfather started the Bank of Greenwood.  He also had a hand in starting the Connie Maxwell Children's Home and the Greenwood Mill.  My grandfather had the first car dealership in Greenwood.  My uncle started The Museum in Greenwood (that's what it is called).  So, to say that Greenwood would not have existed, if it weren't for the Durst family, would be correct.  

 When I saw an advertisement for an antique show at the mall in Greenwood, I knew I had to participate in it.  It was four days, so I had to take vacation time to go.  The lady running the show had an antique store in Greenwood County, and of course she knew my last name was prominent in the county.  

 I got to Greenwood the day before the show and had a reservation at the Holiday Inn across from the mall.  When any of our family would come to Greenwood, we would stay at this motel.  It was a place to go for birthday and anniversary parties in my family.  When I got there to check in, a young girl was at the front desk.  She said the imprinter for the credit card wasn't working, and she would have to write down my credit card number.  I wasn't too pleased about that, but I figured she knew what she was doing.  

 The next day, I set up my stuff in the mall for the show.  I had brought some records, videotapes, memorabilia, and a few autographs.  The only restaurant in the mall was Chick-Fil-A, and my tables were right across from it.  Over the four days, I ate everything on the menu three times.  The smell got in my clothes and hair.  It took me quite a while to go back to eating at Chick-Fil-A anywhere after that.  

 The show was quite successful.  I sold a lot of stuff, even though the organizer didn't like me selling the videotapes.  After all, they weren't exactly legal.  I did have an older couple approach me and said they had some records to sell.  They asked if I could come outside and look in their trunk at the records.  I agreed to, because you never know what gems people might have.  Most of their records were by Elvis.  I saw a few that really were worth something.  I bought ten for $50.  Those ten were actually worth more like $1000.  So, here is a tip for those folks who want to buy records from other people:  never give them what they are worth.  Never let on that they have some rare stuff.  The couple happily took the $50.  And, a tip for those folks who want to sell records:  don't expect you are going to be able to retire by selling your records.  You won't.  

 When Saturday's show was over for the night, I went across the street back to the motel for some much-needed rest.  I found that my key wouldn't open the door to my room.  I went to the front desk to ask why, and they told me because my credit card was declined.  How could that be?  I had plenty of money on it, and no one from the motel had said anything.  They told me that they had tried to call me several times.  I told them that I had been across the street at the antique show.  As it turned out, the message light on the phone in my room didn't work.  I asked to see the card number that the girl had written down, and I found she was one number off.  After clearing all that up, they reopened my door.  I was so mad that I couldn't sleep.  I got up very early and checked out of the motel.  When I went to the front desk, I told the manager that my family helped start Greenwood, and I knew a lot of influential people in Greenwood including the Dorn family.  The manager didn't apologize for his daughter's mistake nor the suffering I experienced. I drove around the area trying to get over my anger, because the last show didn't start until that afternoon.

 After the antique show was over, I loaded everything into my car and drove home.  On the way home, I got behind a pickup truck that was weaving all over the highway, so I couldn't pass it.  A few minutes later, I saw a girl's head come up from the boy's lap.  I just had to laugh.  With everything that had gone on with me over the past 24 hours, it was just funny.  When I got home, I wrote two scathing letters.  One to the Better Business Bureau of Greenwood complaining about the motel, and one to the corporate offices of Holiday Inn.  The BBB wrote back to me, and they said that there were a lot of complaints about that motel.  They said it used to be the nicest place to stay in Greenwood, but it had gone down in quality.  I never heard back from the corporate offices.  I kind of expected an apology letter with maybe a partial refund, but no!  It turned out that the motel eventually closed.  It was torn down and made into a storage facility.  Good riddance.

Dutch

  I only did one record show in Columbia, and that was at Dutch Square Mall.  Back then, the mall was full of shops and shoppers.  My tables were located near one of the entrances.  It wasn't a prime spot, but it was okay.  It was sort of near a barber shop.  

 As I have written before, I sold music videotapes.  They were not commercially available at the time and could have been considered "bootlegs".  I didn't like that word.  I preferred to say they were "unavailable elsewhere".  It was all in how you framed them.  "Unauthorized".  "Imports".  "Promos".  "Not commercially available".  It all meant the same thing.  And, the picture quality varied from great to poor.  There was no such thing as digital quality back then. If you wanted it bad enough, you didn't care.  All sales were final.

 One of my most popular titles was Elvis Presley's last concert that was shown on CBS TV right after he died.  The show was an hour long, and the tape also had the original commercials.  I had a lot of customers who loved Elvis.  The only problem with the tape was that the color was faded, due to it having been copied from the original TV broadcast and then copied a few more times.  My copy was a third-generation tape, so the ones I sold were fourth-generation.   The sound was still good, but the picture just wasn't very clear.

 As luck would have it, a busload of senior citizens from Florida stopped at the mall for lunch.  One woman saw the Elvis tape on my table, and she started talking about how much Elvis meant to her.  She remembered that show and wanted a copy of it.  She asked me if the quality was good.  I told her it was.  She was from Jacksonville, so I didn't think I would ever see her again.  She then asked me that if she wasn't satisfied with it, could she mail it back to me for a refund? I told her no, that all sales were final.  She said she would take a chance and gave me the $10 for the tape.  I am sure she has long-since departed this world, but I still would like to apologize to her.  Maybe, she didn't care after seeing it.  After all, it was Elvis.